


a weekend in the country (so inactive that one has to lie down)

by lovebeyondmeasure



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebeyondmeasure/pseuds/lovebeyondmeasure
Summary: “Robin, dear, it’s just so nice that you’ve finally brought him ‘round,” her mum said, handing her another dish to be dried. “I don’t know why you were so insistent about keeping your work life separate from us, he’s perfectly nice.”“I know, Mum,” Robin said, focusing on the dish in her hand rather than looking at her mother’s too-knowing smile.--------------------Robin brings Cormoran home.





	a weekend in the country (so inactive that one has to lie down)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reindeerjumper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/gifts).



> For Carly. I hope this helps with your terrible day, my dear!
> 
> Title from "A Weekend in the Country" from Sondheim's "A Little Night Music"

“Robin, dear, it’s just so nice that you’ve finally brought him ‘round,” her mum said, handing her another dish to be dried. “I don’t know why you were so insistent about keeping your work life separate from us, he’s perfectly nice.”

“I know, Mum,” Robin said, focusing on the dish in her hand rather than looking at her mother’s too-knowing smile.

“And really, once the whole truth about Matthew came out, no one was going to think poorly of him, you know,” her mother went on blithely. “Really, we all ought to be grateful, for showing us what Matthew was really like before you-”

“Yeah, Mum, thanks, you’re right,” Robin said, putting the dish away and trying very hard not to clatter it. “I’ll just- I’m going to see if anyone needs more to drink.” She walked briskly out of the kitchen, away from the too-much too-soon of her mother’s chatter. Robin might not have dated much, but she could recognize matchmaking when she heard it, and she wasn’t interested.

She stood quietly in the hall, breathing deeply. She and Cormoran were taking things at their own pace, which could have been described by an unkind observer as “glacial” but which Robin preferred to think of as “reasonable, considering.”

 _Considering what?_ her mother would certainly have asked. _Why wait?_

But there was too much at stake between them for her to rush from one man’s arms to another’s; too many unsaid words, and too many said words, as well, really. But she hadn’t been imagining the lingering looks, the way Cormoran found reasons to stay by her desk, chat a little longer. After a time she’d found herself reciprocating, watching the way his shoulders filled out his coat, imagining way to tell her old stories so that this new audience would find them funny, would laugh. 

And one night, getting a round at the pub to celebrate the end of a well-paying job, she’d grinned and put her hand on his and he’d turned his over, capturing hers, and they hadn’t needed to say anything more about it.

This weekend with her parents was as close as they’d come to declaring anything real was happening at all. She had been afraid it would be awkward, bringing Cormoran home when, after all, he’d been roundly blamed by Matthew’s family for tearing the marriage apart before it’d begun. But her family had listened to what she’d said, and had after all understood, and it had been fine.

Fine, fine, fine. Robin stood there in the hall and touched the back of her hand to her cheek. Not blushing. Fine. The warm looks she’d received over the dinner table? Fine. The way her father had chatted with Cormoran in a casual tone about the younger man’s military service and current business, definitely not at all like a father sounding out a man interested in his daughter? Fine. The fact that they were sleeping in bedrooms “next door to each other,” her mum had said, ending with a wink? _Fine._

Robin took a deep breath and stepped into the sitting room, where she’d left her father and Cormoran watching the footy. Her father was nowhere to be seen, but Corm was laid out all the way down her parent’s couch, foot up and prosthetic off, napping, and old Rowntree was snoozing on the floor beside him. 

Robin felt a great wash of tenderness when she saw that he’d felt comfortable enough to take off his prosthetic, and another when she saw how he had one hand dangling down, clearly having been scratching the dog’s head when he dozed off.

It was, in fact, the very sort of domestic bliss she’d always envisioned for herself, when she thought about what she wanted from her life. Somehow, despite the fact that they’d barely held hands, never even kissed, Robin could see a life that looked like this unrolling gently before her, Cormoran snoring and yelling about the Arsenal, her on her laptop, a dog between them. 

Her father came up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I couldn’t bear to wake them,” he said. “That man doesn’t look like he gets enough sleep.”

“He never does,” Robin said, smiling at the man she now called her partner. 

“‘e’s a good bloke, though,” her father said, going past her into the room to settle into his chair. Robin knew that meant Cormoran had earned a seal of approval.

“I think so too,” she said softly, to no one in particular.

**Author's Note:**

> Now with a follow-up work set in the same universe: [smelling jasmine, watching little things grow](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13453725)


End file.
